


I've Moved On

by fotoshop_cutout



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Scott was in a coma, not-a-werewolf!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:53:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fotoshop_cutout/pseuds/fotoshop_cutout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott wakes up from a coma and nothing is what it's supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Moved On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fanfiction writing contest.

Scott leaned forward onto the windowsill, looking down at the driveway as his Mom waved and climbed into the car, off to her first day back to work since he'd woken up. He waved back absently, blinking against the harsh sunlight and squinting his eyes. He leaned back in his wheelchair as the car backed out of the driveway—still the trash heap it had always been—and ground into first as she took off down the street. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a sort-of smile, mostly glad that at least some things were the same as from what he was beginning to remember as being 'reality'. He wheeled himself over to his desk, flipping open to a blank page and picking up a pencil. The therapist—Ms. Morell—was sure that this would help him to keep things straight between what was real and what was from his coma.

He missed Allison. He glanced over to where the picture of he and her used to stand on his cluttered desk. Now his desk was immaculately cleaned and organized, and a picture of his Dad sat, smiling at whoever had taken the picture while he leaned back in a lawn chair, catching some sun by the pool. Oh yeah, that was different too. In his coma, where he was a werewolf of all things and his Mom and Dad got divorced, he had been dealing with his loss in a completely different way. No, more like he _had_ dealt with it. He'd moved past the fact that his Dad was no longer in the picture. So when he woke up and was told that Dad was dead... let's just say that his reaction wasn't exactly what everyone had thought it would be. He did have trouble processing that he wasn't actually a werewolf though.

Maybe that was why his Mom was just now going back to work. She and everyone else thought he was bonkers now, just because he'd gone to her and asked her if she and Stiles were going to keep him on lock-down when the full moon came around; if that was still a thing they did. It turns out werewolves don't exist. Or, at least, that's what they tell him. So the full moon was creeping up and Scott wasn't quite sure they were right so he was beginning to fret over his control. At least Stiles was the same Stiles as ever. He'd been around a few times, but had no idea who 'Derek Hale' was.

Scott stared at the blank page with a bit of frustration. He knew the difference now, even if it was tough to keep it straight while actually talking to someone. For instance, he kept bringing up the divorce in front of Mom. She gave him a look that was something akin to wounded with a sprinkling of confusion around her eyebrows. He didn't mean to bring it up, it just happened. Just like he'd talk about Lydia and Jackson and Stiles would get this look like he was crazy because there was no way his girlfriend was seeing _Jackson_ of all people. That kid didn't even go to their school anymore. Stiles found the majority of it exciting and interesting, if not a little weird. He'd patted his arm and said that he'd bring by video games and get him caught up on everything he'd missed since the accident. That was supposed to be today.

He was just writing down 'Allison is not real' when the familiar rumbling of the Jeep made him lift his pencil from the page and shut the journal, more than happy to have a distraction from it. The doorbell rang and Scott got to have fun wheeling his way through the door frame of his bedroom (moved down to the main floor) and over to answer the door. Lydia smiled brightly at him and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek with her ever brightly colored lips. Stiles was thrumming with energy, holding a box of controllers and the game console, along with loads of games.

“Hey man! You ready to play?” It still escaped him how Lydia was actually into Stiles. That and she played _video games_ with them. What?

-

Ms. Morell talked about the Five Stages of Grief and how it was okay to be a man and show other emotions besides anger. He pulled a face and she assumed he was mocking what she'd said. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, out the window.

“I just don't think I need to go through it.” He didn't want to talk about it all in-depth like, but he was pretty sure he'd already been there and done that.

“Everyone goes through it. Even werewolves aren't an exception.” Her tone made him roll his eyes and look back at her.

“We both know I'm not a werewolf, okay. Can we move past that?”

“Have you really moved past it? Because if I woke up believing one thing and found the opposite to be true, I might fight it a little bit. Until I knew for sure.”

“I'm not that stubborn, I guess.” There was a beat of silence after he spoke, their eyes meeting and he could tell that she was assessing what she saw there. Something changed in her eyes and he averted his gaze, tapping his fingers on the arm rests of his wheelchair. The blue plastic made a hollow sound—it was kind of a cheap chair.

“So why don't you need to go through it?” She moved back to the original topic almost seamlessly, marking something down on her notepad. He wanted to sigh. Even she was a little different here, in reality.

“I guess—I don't know—maybe I've already been through it?” He scraped his nail down the blue plastic, looked down at it and sighed. He didn't want to have to explain things, no matter how much it might help. Why couldn't he just go back to this afternoon, when Lydia and Stiles had been kicking his butt at every video game that had come out while he was down for the count? That was much easier, he didn't have to explain anything to his friends. Lydia was the best—she told him that he wasn't the only one who lived a different life while in a coma. She'd even supplied him with websites and a book that told him about what other people had been through. He'd read a little bit of the book, surprised that he actually found some solace in it.

“How do you mean?” He jerked, looking back up at Ms. Morell and blinking rapidly.

“Oh, um, I just... my Dad was gone when I was...” He swallowed. He had trouble saying this part. He pushed through it though, knowing that if he didn't say it in front of her then she'd think he needed help with that too. “In my coma. You know all this, though, so I don't see why I have to tell you all over again.”

She nodded and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, gazing at the wall beside his head before she turned his attention back on him. She pointed the end of her pen at him as she spoke. “You know, maybe if you wrote it down for me, explained how you think you've already dealt with your loss, and then I'll assess if it's really something we can move on with.”

Great. More writing.

-

He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned forward on the desk, pencil in hand and that damned journal in front of him again. He hated blank pages. He hated filling them even more. At least this time he had some sort of goal in mind, rather than the last page that only said 'Allison is not real.' He looked at the pamphlet Ms. Morell had handed him that dealt with the Five Stages of Grief. So he thought and mulled it over in his head. He was meeting with her every other weekday, so he had time to get it done, but with Stiles coming over to inflict more mindless video game playing on him he felt he should get it done. He glanced at the picture of his Dad, still expecting to see Allison's smiling face looking back at him. He missed her a lot.

He jotted down a few notes, making parallels between his coma-life and the Five Stages of Grief. Anger, the second stage, could only be Derek and Dr. Deaton was the fifth stage: acceptance. He only took a few moments more to figure out that Lydia was denial, the first stage; and Jackson was the depression, the fourth stage. He didn't know about the third stage and had to take a break to go get a glass of milk before he made up his mind that Stiles had to be bargaining. He drew other parallels too, like how Peter was the car crash that had inflicted the coma, how the bite and resulting lycanthropy had to be the injuries from the car crash and the coma itself. He put Allison down as his love and courage because he couldn't help but include her.

By the time he went to bed he had nothing written for it, but he at least had a start. He had a headache and he was exhausted, so he said goodnight to his Mom and hauled himself into bed. The next morning found him fiddling with the pencil while he thought some more. He wrote how he interacted with coma-Lydia, how she was immune to the bite and therefore denied change. How he saw the denial she had that Peter was real, how she didn't want to believe it and her journey from there into the supernatural elements that took place in his coma-world. That part was easier, even if it made him remember the way she'd broken Stiles' heart when she couldn't help but fall in love with Jackson. He didn't like remembering that because it made him feel like he should be a little bitter with her in reality. He knew he shouldn't be, that wasn't the real Lydia who did that.

Derek was harder to write about, mostly because there was no basis in reality for him. Derek just plain didn't exist past the house fire that had indeed claimed the lives of his entire family. How that had come into his coma, Scott wasn't sure. It was stranger yet how he'd known his name, knew he had dark hair and light eyes. Scott didn't want to know how he knew that. He wrote about how Derek based his ability to control his werewolf shifting in anger. How to some extent it worked—until it didn't anymore. He followed that up by Derek realizing that anger wasn't always the answer and how he grew into a better Alpha when he learned that vital lesson.

Having to write about Stiles was difficult. Mostly because real-Stiles was looking over his shoulder and offering his opinions. In the end he bounced his ideas off of real-Stiles and wrote down that Stiles was always bargaining his way out of situations. He used his words and his wit to weasel his way out of dealings with hunters and werewolves and other creatures that weren't actually real. Real-Stiles appreciated that Scott thought he was pretty smart and resourceful, so Scott thought he had a pretty good point with that one. Of course, bargaining didn't work when Gerard decided he needed to beat coma-Stiles up.

Jackson's depression was the hardest to write by far. He started writing about Jackson's wish to be whole, to be wanted by everyone he met, about his descent into being a Kanima because of all of his vulnerability, but he found himself crossing it out and starting over. In the end he went with what he had first written. How Jackson had been pulled out of his depression with Lydia's love was something that he tagged onto the end, because he had to figure out how he moved past it.

Writing about Dr. Deaton's acceptance of everything was easiest—the man was admirable in the way he helped even Derek when the Alpha needed it. He was calm, solid and knew who he was. He accepted Scott and everything he was without question. He only wanted to help. He was intelligent and used everything he knew to help when he could. Scott liked that he could end with his coma-boss like that.

Real-Stiles then dragged him off to play more video games.

-

Ms. Morell read what he wrote and nodded in a few places, glancing up at him while he sat there, a little nervous. He felt like he'd laid it all out there. She finished reading it and set it down on her desk, watching him without reservation. He shifted in his wheelchair. “I believe that you're correct. You've dealt with your father's death already.”

He exhaled more loudly than he should have. It made it sound like he was relieved. Really it felt like he had past a test of some sort, but he didn't want her to know he was concerned about it at all. She flashed a small smile at him. “Just remember that it's alright to grieve, even if you've already accepted his death.”

He nodded and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Now how about this full moon? It's coming up pretty soon.” She just had to keep bringing that up, didn't she?


End file.
